


Temptation Revelation, Sedulous Revolution

by InkyWandmaker



Series: Never Be Game Over [1]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Child Soldiers, Disfigurement, Emetophobia, Force Feeding, M/M, Mental Health Issues, More characters to be added, More tags to be added, Soulmate AU, Swearing, Torture, Trans Character, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, War, blood/gore, but that isn’t really the focus of this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-20 04:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16548908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkyWandmaker/pseuds/InkyWandmaker
Summary: The soulmark is perhaps one of the greatest mysteries in the world. When two people meet for the first time and the soulbond is forged a connection is made between soulmates that lasts for life. The stories and poems written about this bond have permeated the lore and literature of every part of the world- regardless of age, ethnicity, sexuality, or language. However it is rare to meet your soulmate before you’re 20 and it is even rarer to not be able to read your soulmark or understand your soulmate right away.Apparently Mantis and Eli are the exceptions to all the rules.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhh well, here I am posting ANOTHER multi chapter fic when I already have so many WIPs but whatever. I’ve been in a pretty bad headspace lately and it’s been difficult to write so I’ve been taking what I can get in terms of inspiration.
> 
> This fic is set in the same universe as Jupiter Years but follows Liquid and Mantis. The POV will be alternating and this will explore some particularly heavy themes so _please_ mind the tags. I want you guys to be safe.
> 
> I apologize if this seems a bit rough/unpolished. I’m kinda out of practice. However, a HUGE shoutout to my personal cheerleader and good good friend Koob and my patient editor Janus! Janus was an extra huge help when I was trying to figure out how the hell you write a trans character respectfully so I cannot thank him enough for bearing with my stupid questions. Couldn’t have done this without you guys!
> 
> Alright without further ado, please enjoy!
> 
> —:—

Mantis’ childhood memories were mostly vague, half remembered things. A dark bare room with a creaky bed frame and a stained mattress. A cardboard box filled with his clothes. A small pile of stolen books and food under the bed. His father who didn’t even give him a name- just called him either “Girl” or one of many foul curse words when he wasn’t ignoring his existence. Father’s right hand, adorned with a heavy engraved ring that always backhanded Mantis’ face for every “mistake”- regardless of whether it was actually a mistake or not. The precious few days when Father would be asleep- passed out from drinking- and Mantis could pull the books out and lovingly flip through the pages, fingers brushing against the bright pictures.

The books were by far Mantis’ favorite possessions. While he couldn’t read the words printed on the page- he could barely speak- he was always enraptured by the exotic wildlife within those books. His favorite picture was the close up of the strangest looking bug he’d ever seen in his life: long stick like body with wings and forearms covered in spikes. He would stare at that page for hours studying each microscopic detail- from the segments of the creature’s antenna to its large eyes and delicate feet.

Somedays, however, Father’s drinking didn’t lead to a few precious moments of peace but instead to the verbal and physical beating of a life time. Whenever this would happen Mantis was always consumed by a terror so visceral and primal that he would do anything to get away. One time he managed it, running into his bedroom and slamming the door shut before hiding under the bed- praying that the door would stay shut but knowing that without a lock all his escape attempt would do was make the beating worse. Tears slipped down his face as he heard a bang followed by a stream of foul curses. He prayed that the door wouldn’t open, he squeezed his eyes shut and dug his fingers into the hem of his dress and hysterically wished against the universe to please keep that man out of his room. He knew it was impossible of course- was sure any second his father would come inside and beat him- but instead there was more banging and threats but not the sound of the door swinging on it’s rusty hinges nor the grip of his father’s hands. Mantis carefully hazarded a peek out from under his bed.

His bedroom door shuttered from the force of his father’s fists but the door wouldn’t open. It was like it was glued shut. Mantis gaped and the door started to open, his father’s seething face showing through the gap.

“You little bitch, I’ll fucking show you-!”

Mantis winced and squeezed his eyes closed at the same time there was a loud bang. He cracked an eye and saw the door had slammed shut and his father was back on the other side, unable to get in. Mantis breathed heavily, confused but relieved. Somehow he was keeping that door shut with his mind- he didn’t know how just that he was.

Eventually his father gave up and staggered off to go pass out and Mantis got out from under the bed, shaking in relief that he was safe for the time being. That night when he went to flip through his books, he wondered what had happened with the door and whether he could replicate it.

Mantis was maybe 8 or 9 when he had accidentally peered into his father’s mind and was horrified by what he saw. The hatred the man felt for his child, his bitterness that Mantis’ mother died in childbirth and his petty refusal to ever properly take care of the kid. The sick hidden fantasies of the man- from killing Mantis to using the kid as a replacement for his lost wife to just abandoning him to die of exposure out in the wilderness. The shock at feeling so viscerally the hatred his father held toward him caused some kind of dam to break inside of Mantis and a wave of pure undiluted pent up energy just cracked out from him, engulfing everything in flame and knocking Mantis unconscious.

Mantis didn’t remember much after he woke up- just ash and pain. The left side of his face throbbed and burned uncomfortably when he tried to touch the skin. Taking his hand away Mantis surveyed the ruins of his home before freezing, eyes wide. A few feet away from him the charred body of an adult man lay blackened on the floor, the smell turning Mantis’ stomach and terror gripping his consciousness. He shot to his feet, gathered what was left of his meager possessions to his chest and ran, crying, through the streets as fire engulfed every building in the small town. The smoke made Mantis cough and made tears stream from his eyes. The smell of burning flesh mixed in with the everything else would forever haunt his darkest nightmares.

—:—

The weeks following the burning of Mantis’ village were very hazy. Not only was Mantis delirious with hunger and thirst but the cold made everything numb, and the pounding in his head from hearing everyone around him babbling was profoundly overwhelming. When he could manage it, Mantis avoided towns- too frightened of people and weary of the nauseating din of thoughts that would invade his mind and turn his stomach with their selfishness.

After a while, Mantis became aware that there was a man that was following him from place to place- watching him from a distance. The intent behind the man’s gaze was foreign to Mantis and that frightened him. He could feel his curiosity sure, but also a greed and a desire to study him that made the hair on the back of Mantis’ neck stand on end. Mantis did his best to avoid this man- tried to use what little control he had over his powers to shield himself- but after weeks of wandering hungry and thirsty and exhausted from place to place the man finally caught up to him while he was slumped over in an alleyway. After 3 seconds of struggling against the hands holding Mantis down the boy felt a sharp sting in his neck then everything went black.

When Mantis came to he was laying on a cot in a room with white walls and a speckled grey floor made of smooth concrete. Mantis’ head felt cloudy. The barrage of senses invading his consciousness and the shock of having his environment change in the blink of an eye made his stomach do a gymnastics routine. He could feel the scratchy white hospital gown as if it was sandpaper against his skin, hear the thoughts of those in the rooms adjacent to him- how shattered and scared and small they were- and smell the strong chemical tang of the place invading every surface. Mantis felt bile rise up in this throat and he just managed to roll out of bed and make it to the room’s toilet before throwing up whatever he had managed to eat into the bowl. Mantis rested his sweaty forehead against the seat and just shivered for the longest time as he involuntarily scanned the feelings and memories of the girl one cell to the right.

Her name was Marta, but they called her Vtoroy Rebenok- second child. She was young- older than him certainly but still a child- and she was currently crying. She was scared and in pain and angry. She wasn’t captured but was lured here after months on the road trying to leave her abusive caretakers- not her parents, they had died when she was little, but some other relative. Maybe a aunt or uncle? Recent memories showed some of the “tests” she had been subjected to- electrocution, being held under water, being subjected to extreme stress. The men who ran the place kept trying to “trigger” something but she didn’t know what.

Concentrating Mantis tried to expand his radius, shoving down the nausea that was threatening to send him gagging again. The person next to Marta was a boy named Naum but called Pervyy Rebenok. He was pacing his cell anxiously, ranting aloud to himself. He was older than the girl- a teenager probably- but the second Mantis tried to read him further the boy mentally pushed Mantis out with the parting words of “leave me the fuck alone.” Mantis shivered. He didn’t think he liked this boy.

Expanding more Mantis felt several people with the same intent as that man who followed him around, a lady who was supremely bored and totally ignorant to what her employers were doing, and- several stories beneath Mantis- there was someone else. Someone powerful. Someone angry. Someone sleeping. Mantis’ mind barely brushed against the sleeping giant before it was too much- the man’s rage and pain and sadness sent Mantis reeling back into his own body where he dry heaved into the toilet before passing out on the cool tiles of his cell.

When Mantis came to there was someone in the room with him. The same man who had captured him and taken him here. Mantis sat up and glared at the man who was sitting in a folding chair in the direct center of the room with a look of polite indifference on his face.

“Good morning Tretij Rebenok.” Mantis glared harder. “Did you sleep well?”

The man received no reply from Mantis but he didn’t look bothered by it in the slightest as he curiously studied Mantis with his cold black eyes. After a few minutes he stood up and took several measured steps over towards the child, backing him into a corner before squatting down. They eyed each other- Mantis wearily and the man with cold calculating curiosity.

“Such a pretty little girl...” the man reached out and Mantis flinched away as the man swept his hair out of his face. “Such a shame that your previous owner didn’t take good care of you.”

Mantis clenched his fists and jaw to try to hide his trembling as the man’s fingers brushed the left side of his face that had been burned in the fire causing a searing pain to lick at his skin. Mantis hissed and slapped the hand away making the man chuckle darkly.

“Alright girlie. I’ll leave you be for now.” The man stood up and collected his folding chair. “See you tomorrow Tretij.”

Mantis just glared.

—:—

The men at the facility quickly learned that Mantis was not going to be easily broken. As they even came to collect him the next day for the first round of “tests” Mantis had puzzled out what they would try to do and so he kicked and scratched and spat and bit at every man who dared to touch him. Eventually they wrestled him into a straight jacket and muzzled him before carrying him to another bare room with only a table, chair, and machine. They strapped him into the chair and hooked him up to the electrodes.

The shocks started small then gradually increased in intensity as they tried to goad Mantis into reacting. It was only after about five minutes that Mantis blew up the machine in retaliation. He was then frog marched back to his cell and given a tray containing some kind of disgusting boiled vegetable and stale bread which Mantis promptly ignored.

Every day was vaguely the same- the men would come in at the same time each morning and, if Mantis had actually managed to sleep, they would wake him up. Then there would be the struggle of Mantis fighting against them as they tried to restrain him long enough to get him out the door. After wrestling the struggling child into his straightjacket they would take him to whatever “test” they had prepared for him that day and Mantis would be subjected to some form of torture in an attempt to get him to use his psychic powers. Mantis hated it. He hated being touched and handled and restrained. He hated the damn water tub they would push him under and the fucking tiny closet they would shove him into or the electrodes they would shock him with or the men they would have advance upon him menacingly until Mantis lashed out. He hated them all.

After the test of the day they would throw him back into the cell with his daily disgusting meal (which he refused to touch) and he was left alone most nights.

Most.

About once a week the man that had abducted him in the first place- the director of the facility- would bring his stupid folding chair into the cell and sit down and attempt to have a chat with Mantis.

“My my Tretij, is the food not to your liking?” the man teased as he looked at the row of untouched trays- 16 in total. Mantis just glared at him and the director sighed. 

“You’re going to have to eat something eventually my dear Tretij, we wouldn’t want you to starve to death now would we?” The director smiled, his teeth gleaming in the fluorescent lights and the shadows making them seem menacingly sharp. Mantis refused to be unnerved- refused to lower his gaze. The man stood up from his chair and with measured steps approached Mantis’ bed where the boy was sitting. Just as he was close enough to touch the sheets the director stopped because he could simply step no closer. Amusement danced in his black eyes.

“So you’ve put up a little wall now have you? It looks like you’re getting the hang of these powers Tretij...a pity you’re so uncooperative. Just imagine what we could do together.”

Mantis glared harder, his ice blue eyes hardening to steel. The director stared him down for another 30 seconds before exhaling a tiny chuckle and turning his back to Mantis. “I can see when I’m not welcome so I’ll see myself out, however-“ he looked over his shoulder, his dark eyes deep with a threat. “I suggest you eat something tonight or you’ll regret it.”

The director turned his back to Mantis and took several measured steps towards the door. As the door shut behind him, Mantis swiped his hand and all 16 trays flew towards the door at once, painting the white with their bland greens and oranges and yellows. 

—:—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger! The next chapter is be following Eli’s POV but hopefully it won’t be too long before it’s up. I promise I am still working on Jupiter Years! I’ve just had a hell of a time getting motivated! I appreciate your patience in the meantime.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! :3


	2. Chapter 2

Eli tipped back in his chair, his blue eyes fixed to the ceiling and his uniform in disarray. He had barely made it to breakfast before he had untucked the white dress shirt from his trousers and by first period the first few buttons had been undone. Now, in third period, Eli had shed his school blazer and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. Lazily, he twirled a pen between his fingers and studied the textured ceiling in favor of listening to the instructor drone on and on about history.

Eli already knew everything the man was saying. In fact, he probably understood the concepts _better_ than the man standing at the lectern did. It was so _easy_ here. Every class was just a test of patience; every moment a struggle not to just fall asleep.

Distantly, Eli was aware that the teacher was trying to get his attention but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Why should he? It wasn’t like it actually _mattered_ what he did. Nobody else cared how well his grades were so why should he?

The other boys cared about their marks because they had parents at home who cared. Eli scoffed; _home_. That’s all these boys ever talked about. What even was a home? He’d never had one. Before this school there had been a different one and before that another. His entire life was just a series of institutions designed to force him into a mold that would _never_ fit him. They could push and push and he would never conform to their wishes. He was determined to _shatter_ the mold.

The instructor had strode over and slapped his ruler on the surface of the school desk but Eli stayed decidedly stone faced. He didn’t flinch like the other boys did when the teachers would call him out on his daydreaming and he would be damned if he was going to give this asshole the illusion that he had any power over him what so ever.

“Eli!” Lazily Eli turned and fixed the balding man with a bored expression.

“What.”

“Why was the Glorious Revolution of 1688 so important?”

Eli rolled his eyes. That was easy. He could have easily answered, parroted back to the man that it led to the establishment of the Bill of Rights and further limited the power of the monarchs like a good little schoolboy. But why? Why should he? Instead of answering Eli just continued to twirl his pen around his fingers.

“I asked you a question,” the man seethed. Around him a few of the other boys sniggered, their greedy eyes and dumb faces turned toward the scene before them. Eli clicked his tongue and looked away from all their ugly faces.

“I know, I just don’t feel like answering today.”

The man’s fingers were white knuckled around the ruler like he was barely restraining himself from bringing it down upon Eli himself. “Eli...” the man’s voice was full of warning.

“Yes, keep saying my name. I’m sure that _eventually_ it’ll miraculously make me obey your _every command_.”

The class broke into gentle laughter before being silenced by a bark from the teacher for quiet. Eli was disgusted anew. These boys weren’t people; they were just mindless animals. They blindly followed orders and yearned for pointless words of praise and meaningless accomplishments. They would make fine additions to the mindless masses that made up “society.”

“Go to the headmasters office.” The teacher snapped, pointing the ruler towards the door. “Now.”

Eli tipped forward and landed all four legs of his chair on the stone floor. The children around him looked on greedily, getting some kind of satisfaction from what they perceived to be humiliation. Slowly Eli rose up from his chair and slung his blazer and book bag over his shoulder. He shouldered past the man who was now nearly purple faced and strolled out the door and down the hall.

He strolled past the ornate carved door with the little plaque reading “Headmaster”, past the manicured lawns and topiaries surrounding the school buildings, past the bronze statue of the school’s founder in the quad, and straight out the gates of the school never to be seen wandering the halls again.

—:—

The cargo hold Eli had stowed away on was dark and smelled faintly of rat piss. The floor swayed in time with the rise and fall of ocean waves. Eli had no idea where this ship was headed, all he cared about was that it was far away from London.

Despite how big the city was, it only took Eli a single day of roaming it to become bored of it all. It was too rigid, too stuffy. All the adults around his boarding school were dressed in suits and ties, looking like ugly mindless penguins. Eli had walked the opposite direction they were all rushing and kept walking until the voices stopped sounding like his fucking teachers and started sounding more like him. Following some men in stained coveralls and undershirts led him to the docks where several huge freight ships were being loaded with goods to export all over the globe.

Getting on board one of those vessels had been all too easy. Eli had always had a knack for sneaking around, his night time escapades around the school legend. Everyone had known he was the perpetrator of the vandalism and theft but Eli was too smart to be caught in their pathetic web of rules and punishment. Without proof, the adult could only seethe and keep a closer watch on him. Sneaking past a bunch of tired men in the dark surrounded by the sounds of the ocean and swears was easy.

Above deck, two sets of work boots clunked past and Eli glanced up at the entrance to his hiding place. Twin shadows passed by but didn’t come down and Eli clicked his tongue in disappointment. He was _bored_ and the junk in his book bag only kept him occupied for so long. Now the only thing he had left to do was twirl around the engraved letter opener he had nicked from the headmaster’s study. 

He had once tried to take a knife from the mess hall during dinner but had been disappointed to discover that it was dreadfully dull- not much better than a butter knife. It had quickly been discarded.

Eli’s stomach growled at the idea of dinner and he glared down at his abdomen. After a moment’s debate he pulled himself up and snuck out of the cargo hold, his letter opener clenched tight in his fist. Sticking to the shadows, Eli was grateful for the skeleton crew that was roaming around this late at night. It made sneaking into the mess hall much easier.

Eli grabbed a bit of everything and returned below deck with his dinner. The food tasted about as appetizing as a dead rat but he just gulped some water to wash down the taste before tossing his garbage into a crate and curling up behind a stack of boxes to take a rest.

The rocking ocean and the promise of a new life far away from the manicured lawns and rainy gloom of London lulled Eli into the best sleep he’d had in many many years.

—:—

Eli jerked away with a start at the sound of heavy work boots descending the stairs. Two men were chatting back and forth, speaking rapid fire in a language Eli was not familiar with. Carefully, he peeked around the corner of the boxes and saw two African men inspecting the crates.

While they had their backs turned, Eli gathered up his belongings into his book bag and slipped up and out of the now open cargo ramps. The bright sunlight and hot humid air hit Eli like a slap to the face and he squinted out at his new surroundings. 

It looked nothing like London. The tops of the tropical palms glistened in the bright sunlight and teal waves lapped against the wood beams of the docks. Eli started forward, ducking and weaving around the men and crates, grinning as the words surrounding him were foreign and exciting- _finally_ something to _learn!_. With a short jump Eli landed in the soft sand of the shoreline, feeling the grains slip into his shoes right away. He kicked them off and wiggled his toes in the hot sand.

He’d never been to the beach before- at least, not one like _this_. Sure he’d seen the ocean before, swam in the waves but it was always so...dreary. The shores were just rocks and the waters a dull grey with pollution not to mention it seemed to be perpetually cloudy with rain threatening to ruin the trip at any moment. Eli tipped his face up and closed his eyes, letting the hot sun warm his face as he breathed in deeply.

Excitement was building up like a overfilled balloon and Eli could hardly contain the energy. With a whoop of laughter he started to run, feet splashing in the water as he raced down the wet sand. He felt like he could run forever, right past the horizon and into the sky. 

Finally, _Freedom_.

Eventually Eli slowed a bit, desperately needing to catch his breath but smiling all the same as he panted. The legs of his trousers were not wet and his unbuttoned dress shirt was stared to get soaked through with sweat but Eli didn’t care. With a great big kick he send a chunk of wet sand and water up into the air, laughing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something.

The in the sand, just at the edge of the water was a big pink shell. Eli went and picked it up, rinsing the sand off in the ocean. It was a conch- a big one- perfectly intact with gorgeous swirls of cream and brown on the light pink. Carefully, Eli slipped it into his bag before walking away from the beach and into town.

Eli couldn’t read the signs nor did he know where he was exactly but he supposed he must be somewhere in Africa by the way the people looked and talked. As he walked past, some of the men and women looked at him funny but didn’t say anything- mostly just shrugged it off. Still. Eli needed a change of clothes. Quickly.

The storefronts were colorful if simple in design and Eli walked past each one, squinting inside. Eventually he came across a shop with racks upon racks of clothes- probably second hand but Eli didn’t care. He just wanted to be in _anything_ other than this stupid fucking uniform.

Eli walked down each row, fingers brushing along the hangers and feeling the fabric. A few items caught his eye- an olive green button down with cut off sleeves and a few patches on it, a pair of dark shorts with a camouflage pattern on them, and some combat boots that were size too big but fit well enough. Casually Eli stuffed them into his book bag and walked out, posture reassured and relaxed as he headed out towards the jungle and away from the people.

There was something he was dying to do.

By the time Eli had found himself a clearing inside the lush jungle and collected his supplies, the sun was starting to set and Eli’s shirt was soaked through with sweat. Crouching down, he ripped out a few pages from his English textbook, used a cigarette lighter stolen from his Algebra teacher to start a small fire, and with an uncharacteristic patience carefully fed the flames, coaxing them into a roaring blaze with some fanning and kindling. 

Once the fire was crackling along merrily, Eli stripped out of his uniform and pulled on his stolen change of clothes. Then he tossed the white linen dress shirt, slacks, and blazer into the fire. As the fabric burned Eli was delighted to see the embroidered crest of his old boarding school crackle and split apart in the heat.

After the uniform, Eli dumped his bag out. By the light of the fire he sorted through his papers and books- keeping what might be useful like his book of geography or his stolen treasures but gleefully burning the rest. It was a cleansing. With every paper burned Eli felt refreshed, the fire a funeral pyre for his old life.

As the fire grew and grew, so did Eli’s smile as he kept burning and burning until there was nothing left. He sat down on the moss, feeling a pleasant kind of exhaustion- the kind that came from a good long day of rewarding work. Eli fell asleep that night, warmed by the dying embers of his past and guided towards the future by the radiant light of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not completely satisfied with this but if I keep looking at it I’ll never post it so...here you go. As always a special thank you to my friends Koobie for keeping me motivated and Janus for putting up with my dumb ass questions.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Next chapter shouldn’t take too long to write since I have it outlined but life has a way for fucking up my plans.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys, here’s where shit starts getting sensitive. This chapter contains explicit descriptions of torture- particularly of force feeding being used as a method of torture. Please be careful if this is something that might bother you. While I want you guys to enjoy my work, I also want you to stay safe.

—:—

The day after the Director’s threat the men that usually came to collect him and drag him to the tests never came. Mantis could tell that Naum and Marta had been collected and whisked away as usual but the guards never so much as glanced at his cell. The whole day Mantis sat on his bed, glaring at the door and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Approximately around the time he would have been shoved back into his cell and given his daily tray of food Mantis felt 6 men approaching his cell with purpose. The door swung open and immediately it was clear that this was going to be very different than anything that had come before. The Director and a man in a white lab coat entered the room flanked by four men dressed in full body armor complete with head protection.

“Grab her,” the Director ordered and the men advanced. Mantis mentally pushed them away. After about a minute of the men not being able to come anywhere near Mantis the doctor pulled a tranquilizer gun out of his pocket and handed it to one of the guards.

The first attempt to shoot Mantis was deflected by Mantis’ psychokinesis but the second hit him in the shoulder. Mantis hissed and reached up to pull it out but by the time he had, whatever was in it had started to take effect. Suddenly it became hard for Mantis to focus, like someone had filled his head with cotton and woken him up from a deep sleep. The four men surrounded him and Mantis fought as best he could- tried to bite and kick- but no matter what he did he couldn’t penetrate their body armor. Wrestling against four grown men while drugged and weak only held off the inevitable for so long as he was restrained in his straight jacket and hoisted up into the arms of one of the guards.

Mantis’ heart beat fast against his ribs and they carried him out. Whatever was in that dart hadn’t been intended to knock him unconscious, just make him dizzy and confused. Concentrating, Mantis tried to figure out what they were planning to do to him but was unsuccessful. All he managed to glean was that the scientist who had instructed him to be drugged was desperately trying to remain stone faced but his mind was a roiling mess of conflicting thoughts. Whatever was coming was bad enough that he felt apprehensive about subjecting Mantis to it.

Mantis redoubled his efforts to get free, hissing and spitting as he struggled against the leather straps binding his arms behind him. The Director laughed coldly.

“I warned you Tretij Rebenok. I told you to eat your vegetables but instead you threw a tantrum and now you’ve forced my hand.” He looked over his shoulder with a cruel smile on his face. “We can’t have you starving yourself now can we?”

The doctor held open a door for the Director and the four guards, adverting his eyes when Mantis tried to make eye contact. The guard carrying him dumped him in a strange tilted chair and held his struggling body still while the others fastened even more straps around him. The doctor was now over at a station preparing something while the Director took a seat a few yards away, smiling like he was about to watch his favorite show.

Mantis got the distinct impression the doctor was steeling himself as he turned around and took measured steps forward. In his gloved hands was a long plastic tube about half and inch in diameter and what looked like some kind of funnel. The doctor looked to the Director who narrowed his eyes.

“Well, get on with it Dr Petrov,” he snapped, his eyes hard. Petrov gulped and turned towards Mantis who was still struggling fruitlessly against the straps.

“Hold her head still,” he instructed and two guards on either side of the chair clamped their hands on the crown of his head and jaw so that either way he turned, Mantis was unable to do much more than glare. The rough fabric of their protective gloves rubbing against his burn made tears prick in his eyes and as the doctor brought the end of the tube towards his face, Mantis tried to push him away but nothing happened.

Petrov carefully wormed the tube up Mantis’ left nostril, the skin stretching and threatening to split due to the burns. After getting it up through the cartilage Petrov tried to poke it down further but it wouldn’t budge. He pushed harder.

Mantis screamed as there was a soft crack and blood started to flow from his nose. He thrashed around, the hands holding him tightening and the doctor trying to get him to stop. With force that hurt enough to make him sob the guards squeezed his jugular until he felt faint before easing up. The doctor tried again, pushing the tube against his nose while tears streamed down Mantis’ face.

There was blood everywhere, dripping down his chin and throat. Mantis’ mouth flooded with the taste and he gagged violently. He jerked upright in an attempt to bend over and vomit it out but couldn’t. The doctor hastily pulled the tube out and shooed the guards away, tipping the chair further back so that Mantis had no choice but to swallow the blood and bile.

“Sir, her nose...it’s too small for a nasogastric intubation.” Petrov stated, his hands shaking around the tube.

The Director glared. “Then try to intubate her orally. You _will_ preform the procedure _today_ , Dr Petrov.”

Petrov shook at the implied threat and retreated over to the station, cleaning off the tube and grabbing something else before tilting the chair up. Mantis made eye contact with the man, his silver-blue eyes filled with tears and the scientist closed his eyes, face twisted into an anguished grimace. He looked to one of the guards not currently holding his head still.

“Open her mouth.”

The man advanced forward and grabbed Mantis’ jaw with one hand while the fingers on his other pried the mouth open. Mantis tried to bite down but the pain made it hard to think and he flinched violently when he felt a sharp pain. Whatever the doctor was trying to get into his mouth had nicked the right corner of his lip. Petrov nodded and the guard removed his fingers, both oblivious to the cut as the metal instrument was placed into his mouth. The doctor readied the tube and the guard cranked the mouth prop open.

The dry, burned skin on the left side of Mantis face immediately protested the act of being stretched open but the right side of his face felt like it was being ripped open. Mantis tried to scream as skin pulled and tore but he couldn’t with the plastic tube being forced down his throat. He felt like he was dying, the pain made worse by his inability to breathe and the laughter coming from the other side of the room. Distantly, he could sense the guards shocked horror at whatever was happening and the guilt from the doctor but it didn’t really register for him.

The tube scrapped down his esophagus and Mantis closed his eyes against the horrific pain of it all. Everything was getting blurry, the edge being taken off as he started to fall unconscious from the blood and the pain and the lack of air. Petrov yelled something, panicked, but Mantis didn’t hear.

He had finally passed out.

—:—

Mantis regained consciousness three days later, waking up in his cell with a groan. It was hard to breathe and even harder to swallow. His face throbbed in pain, the right side of his face burning and itching at the same time.

Carefully, Mantis reached up and, shaking the sleeve of his straight jacket down, brushed his fingers over his cheek. There was a strange pattern of rough lines that hurt to touch and Mantis frowned. He sat up and got to his feet, gripping the edge of his bed frame for support. Mantis stumbled forward, a hand pressed to the white tiles of his cell as he slowly made his way over the room’s toilet and sink. Gripping the bowl of the sink, Mantis looked up at his reflection only to gasp.

Mantis paled, making his freckles stand out even more than usual as he gaped at the damage. The burn on the left side of his face had become even more inflamed following the rough treatment from the guards and his nose was now badly bruised and crushed- a nasty break- but the worst of the damage was on the right side of his face.

The sensation Mantis had felt while his mouth was being forced open turned out to actually have been the side of his cheek splitting open. The cut was about 3 and a half inches long and was held closed by ten stitches. Mantis shook from the shock, blinking owlishly at his now grotesque reflection as if that would change the grim reality of his situation. His hands clenched against the porcelain of the sink as tears welled up in his eyes. He wasn’t a vain person- he didn’t _really_ care what he looked like - but this went beyond looking plain or ugly.

This made him look monstrous.

The mirror cracked as Mantis’ emotions became overwhelming. Slowly he sank to the floor, crying softly and curling his skinny arms around his knees.

Disgust flowed into grief which became rage. He clenched his teeth as much as he dared. He hated it here. He hated the fucking guards and the scientists and Dr Petrov and he _especially_ hated The Director. 

As if on cue the door swung open and the man strode into the room, a metal tray clutched in his hands.

“Ah, good morning Tretij! Or, rather, good evening. You’ve been asleep for a while now.”

Mantis glared at the man, his hands curled into fists. The Director laughed.

“Well now! It looks like someone is unhappy today. You know, this could have all been avoided had you just eaten your dinner like a good girl instead of going on this stupid hunger strike.”

The crack in the mirror spread further and a few shards of glass tinkled against the tile as they fell.

“Oh! I brought you a little present!” The Director lifted a child’s gas mask off the tray and tossed it towards Mantis. “There. That way you won’t make everyone sick every time we have to look at you!”

The glass rattled against the concrete as more and more fell out of the frame and onto the floor. The Director continued on, unphased.

“And of course here’s your dinner,” the tray was set onto the floor. “Are boiled carrots and bread to your liking?”

The Director laughed at his own sarcasm before being silenced by a splatter of carrots hitting him in the face. He reached up and wiped them off, his black eyes murderous.

“Fuck. You.” Mantis hissed, his voice rough from irritation and lack of use. 

The Director smiled menacingly. “Ohhhh you’re gonna pay for that girlie.”

As the man slowly advanced on Mantis, another voice echoed in his head.

 _And just how long are you planning on letting them push you around?_ The deep voice growled. _You have the power to make they pay and instead you just let them walk all over you. If you’re going to get anywhere in this world you need to stand up for yourself._

Mantis’ eyes widened at the strange voice. _I don’t know how!_

The image of a particularly large shard of glass flickered through Mantis’ mind. _Do to him what he did to you._

Mantis’ fingers curled around the large shard of glass, the edge biting into the flesh but he didn’t notice. The Director reached toward him, his hands clutching the fabric of his straight jacket and face inches from his own. Mantis could smell his horrible breath and he glowered, icy eyes meeting black. In one swift motion he raised the shard, swiped it across the man’s face, and used his psychokinesis to push the man away.

The Director hissed in pain as he fell backwards into his ass, hand coming up to his face. Whatever words he had been about to say died on his tongue as Mantis floated upright, the bloody shard now held aloft mentally. Mantis felt the man’s haughty attitude give way to fear as the power balance shifted wildly away from him. The voice echoing in Mantis’ head laughed as he watched through the psychic’s eyes.

_Finish him._

And Mantis did.

—:—

Mantis floated above the corpse of The Director, grimly satisfied with the carnage. The man’s face had been slashed to ribbons, his throat cut open vertically to simulate the pain Mantis had felt when the feeding tube had been pushed down his esophagus. The blood leaking from his body had started to pool on the concrete floor, inching ever closer to the tray and mask. Mantis stooped and picked up the latter, turning it over in his hands curiously.

 _Who are you?_ He asked as his hands fumbled to put the mask over his head.

_Colonel Yevgeny Borisovitch Volgin._

_Yev..._ Mantis fumbled with the words and the man chuckled.

 _Volgin is fine._

_What do you want?_ Mantis asked, the gas mask now in place. Strangely enough it made everything...quieter. Made it easier to focus on the conversation he was having.

_Revenge. And what about you? What do you want?_

_Freedom._ Mantis replied without hesitation. Volgin laughed.

_Perhaps we can help each other. I help you break out, you help me take my revenge._

_Why do you need me?_

Volgin grumbled and suddenly Mantis’ mind was somewhere else. He was standing in a room that looked nearly identical to his own. There were lots of machines hooked up to a very large man who Mantis inferred to be Volgin. _I cannot move. No matter how hard I try I cannot get up. I need you to help me move._

Mantis wearily stepped back, suspicious. _...why should I help you?_

 _Because we are alike, you and I._ Mantis relayed his confusion to the man and Volgin huffed. _Here. Let me show you._

Volgin shifted Mantis’ mind again and showed him scenes from his memory. Mantis saw a small boy being beaten by his father for no reason until the boy had enough and ran away. He saw the boy struggle to survive, cast aside and shown no sympathy or mercy. He watched as the boy became a young man with a burning anger towards the cruel world and watched the young man become a soldier. He saw war through the man’s eyes, saw him fighting while surrounded by death. Saw him get captured by the Japanese where he was tortured in an attempt to coax something out of him. Watched the man’s violent awakening, his electrokinesis scalding him from the inside out as it killed every man around him. Saw the man empowered by his abilities, walking out of the facility and killing his captors on the way. Saw the man thrive and succeed, climbing the ranks due to his intelligence and cut throat attitude. Mantis looked on curiously as he watched Volgin meet a beautiful young man with platinum blonde hair and he was nearly knocked over by the overwhelming feeling that accompanied this meeting. 

Volgin provided a short explanation for that feeling: A bond being forged between Soulmates. Love. He flashed an image of his collar bone marked with the name Ivan and then of another marked with his own.

Then Mantis was shown a man with dark brown hair and a rugged appearance. Watched as this man laid waste to all of Volgin’s carefully constructed plans. Watched the man attack Ivan, gravely wounding him before impersonating him to try to get under Volgin’s skin. Watched Volgin fight the man, desperately trying to take revenge for everything but failing no matter how hard he tried. Saw Volgin brought down when lightning struck his body, the thunder attracted to the electricity coursing through his body.

Mantis pulled free from the memories, gasping. _I understand just...what do I do?_

_Come here._

Mantis floated out of his cell, leaving the cooling corpse of The Director behind. It was late, the guards were stretched thin and Mantis floated down the stairs and into Volgin’s cell without incident.

Mantis floated over to Volgin’s body, his hand coming out to touch his bicep. The moment his hand pressed against the firm flesh a warmth raced up his arm- almost like fire but this fire didn’t burn. The Colonel’s sea green eyes opened and he turned his head slightly so he was staring into the lenses of his gas mask.

 _You’re a pyrokinetic?_ He asked, surprise ringing his voice. Mantis nodded and the Colonel’s mouth twitched in a pantomime of a smile. _I can work with that._

The warmth that had raced up Mantis’ arm began to course through him, warming him up and making him feel powerful. Volgin sat up and ripped the wires out of his body, a strange joy making the warmth grow even hotter. The man strode forward, siphoning power off of Mantis and heating up himself until he was blazing. Mantis gasped, was worried that he’d burn him but Volgin just chuckled.

_I’m a master of electrokinesis- Pyrokinesis isn’t that different._

Relieved, Mantis floated after him. Together they made their way out of the building, the heat building up until it was nearly unbearable but still it did not burn them.

The building, on the other hand, did burn. With every step the pair made, fire sprung up behind them and spread. By the time Mantis and Volgin had made it out into the cold Russian night, the building was beyond saving and they were far beyond caring. They held no nostalgia for their prison nor any sympathy for their captors. 

Let it burn, Mantis thought as they turned south.

Let it all burn.

—:—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh Volgin is such a fascinating character and I wish they had actually developed his character beyond just “Sadistic Bisexual with Electrokinesis” so I’ve decided to take some liberities. Also hooray Mantis is free from being tortured and can now go on to meet his soulmate! Yay!
> 
> If youre enjoying the fic so far don’t forget to leave a comment or a kudos before you go! They really do mean a lot to me.


End file.
